


The Kaleidoscope Project-An Introduction

by imaginationtherapy



Series: The Kaleidoscope Project [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Mania, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/pseuds/imaginationtherapy
Summary: This illness that I have lived with is like a kaleidoscope, it looks like something wonderful and lovely on the outside, but can be a terrifying reality to live with.





	The Kaleidoscope Project-An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This prose focuses on my struggle to recognize my bipolar disorder. Suicidal ideation is mentioned very briefly and very remotely.

On the outside, a kaleidoscope is an intriguing coffee-table item. Sometimes there are flowery figures gracing the outside, sometimes a starry display, sometimes a tantalizing taste of what is hidden inside.. Kaleidoscopes look like something you long to explore. But on the inside…  


On the outside, she looked like anyone else—average and unassuming. She had a bubbly personality, unique sense of style, intelligent, with a mischievous sense of humor. She looked like someone you would want to have as a friend. But she never let you see what was on the inside…  


On the inside, a kaleidoscope is ever-changing. Patterns shift with every imperceptible movement, colors swirling wildly. Sometimes the patterns are breathtaking displays of glowing geometries, sometimes passive pastels, and sometimes darker shadows impose on the shapes. A kaleidoscope is a beautiful piece, but after a while, the shapes and colors overwhelm your mind and you have to put it down. You return with a smile to the real world, where everything stays put, colors shift slowly, and darkness comes when the sun sets. You enjoy the stimulus, but are glad to escape the chromatic roller coaster. Living in a kaleidoscope might kill you.  


On the inside, her mind was ever-changing. Emotions shift with every imperceptible change in the world around her, colors swirling wildly in her environment. Sometimes the orange of the sunshine and the green of the trees and the beauty of the birdsong were so vibrant, so clear, she wanted to dance, to twirl, to dash about. She never wanted to sleep, she had so many plans—so many projects to do! Then the colors would fade to a washed-out Monet. She was afraid of the numbness that settled in as the carousel of her thoughts slowed nearly to a stop. She was terrified of the blackness she knew was coming. The shadows that occluded everything she knew and loved, that blocked out the sun, that made existence painful. In private, where no one could see, she cried herself to sleep, hating herself for being unable to control the tornado that lived inside of her. She was living in a kaleidoscope and it was killing her.

  

Let’s imagine for a moment that you’ve never seen a kaleidoscope in real life. You’ve heard about them, you’ve seen pictures of the “perfect kaleidoscope”, so you assume they all look like that. Huge, brilliant colors, kind of terrifying in their unpredictability. You would recognize one if you saw it, you can’t miss those things. But you don’t realize that kaleidoscopes come in shapes and sizes as varied as the patterns they display.  


You wouldn’t recognize her as a kaleidoscope girl from casual observation. You could easily miss the signs even as a close friend. The wild way she twirled through college and the kitchen? She was just hyper, in love with life. The colorful clothes she wore? Unique style. Those times she spoke so loud and so fast you could barely make out what she was saying? She must have had too much caffeine. The times she would decide to clean at midnight? She just has a lot of energy…  


Maybe if you could have seen the darker patterns, full of blues and grays, you might have seen it. But she didn’t let anyone see those days. She would hide, out of sight, where no one would notice her clothing was suddenly black, dark red, simple patterns. Too busy, too tired, too much homework. Excuses that you never questioned. Excuses that she never questioned. Every winter when she would disappear from your horizon, you knew it was just college, teaching, work, winter. She knew that’s all it was…she just wasn’t good at handling stress, work, people. She just wasn’t trying hard enough. She wasn’t good at life, she was broken, she needed to try harder. She tried hard…and then she crashed harder.  


She started questioning. She sought help for the fears she’d always had. She gained tools to use against those fears. You supported her for that, you were proud of her. But still, she had questions. Questions about the shadows, the days when she wished she didn’t exist, the mornings when finding a pair of socks took most of her energy, the classes where she almost collapsed in tears in front of her students. Questions about why those days never lasted long enough to be called “depression”, but always came back.  


Then one day, the pattern shifted for just a moment and she saw it…the shadowed patterns contrasted with the vibrant rainbows. For a second her past memories flooded into focus—the early teen years when she would go from black to bright seemingly overnight, from lost to found, from afraid to dancing in the sunlight.  


Her questions changed. Her perception shifted. She wasn’t broken, she didn’t need to try harder, she wasn’t a bitch. She was living in a kaleidoscope, and it was killing her. It was a gift, but it was becoming a curse.  


Finally, one day, it was enough. She gave up, gave in, and someone believed her. She finally had a name for the mysterious shadows that had haunted her for 12 years. And she finally had a tool to fight back.

Bipolar disorder. You know what it looks like. Manic-depressive. Self-destructive highs, full of drugs, sex, and impulsive spending. Crippling depression, suicidal ideation, withdrawal from society. You would recognize it anywhere, right?  


Wrong.  


Bipolar 1 is what you probably are used to hearing about. The bipolar of Carrie Fisher, with true manic episodes and deep depressions. But most people don’t realize that there is another form of bipolar disorder. Bipolar 2 has less severe manic episodes and depressive episodes. Less severe? Less noticeable really. Bipolar 2 often goes unnoticed because it doesn’t fit the classic stereotype. However, if left untreated, it can deteriorate into bipolar 1.  


The story above is mine. I was diagnosed with depression and OCD at age 13 after being hospitalized for what looked like suicidal thoughts. I was eventually diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (my “suicidal thoughts” had actually been severe anxiety about becoming suicidal). I have been open about my anxiety for years, seeking counseling and taking mild medication for it. After taking a semester off due to bizarre symptoms that were chalked up to stress, I once again sought out counseling. I began working on coping skills for general and social anxiety. As I grew in my ability to manage and recognize my anxiety, I noticed I had difficulty sorting out my emotions, and would often mistake intense emotions for anxiety. So we added that to my goal list. Slowly I started noticing a pattern of strange, mini-depression episodes. Mini in length, not in intensity. They would last for a week, maybe two before vanishing; not long enough for major or persistent depressive disorder. Then I noticed the “weird” moods. Moods where I didn’t feel like my “usual” hyperactive self nor depressed. Just…even-keeled…no intense emotions of any sort. One day, I happened across a description of a bipolar manic mood: euphoric. I remember everything stopping for a moment. Euphoric. That’s how I felt. I read more, about the racing thoughts, how loud someone who is manic becomes. I suddenly realized all these years what I thought was “normal” for me was actually low-level mania. The depression episodes where the lows of bipolar.  


My therapist and I started talking about this and I started tracking my moods. This was around the fall of 2017. The winter of 2017 and early spring of 2018 were some of the worst months of my life. From October through late April I couldn’t hold a stable mood for more than 2 weeks. I moved out of my parents home in March and nearly lost touch with reality from the intensity of the mood swings. At one point I wrote down “I feel like a depressed emotional hurricane held together by a few mismatched pieces of duct tape this is fine”. I realized it was time to look into medication.  


In late April I was officially diagnosed as bipolar 2 and put on mood stabilizers and medication for anxiety.  


As I mention this to other people, some have said “I wouldn’t have expected that”, and I smile. Because for years I thought it was just me…just my inability to handle life, something I needed to work on. So I hid the worst parts. I even managed to *kind of* hide some of the mania. I knew what “normal” was supposed to look like, and I did a phenomenal job of imitating that. But it took so much energy…energy to suppress the mania and energy to “bring up” my depressed self to a normal level.  


So maybe you won’t notice the changes. Maybe you will look at me and see just the same me I’ve always been. Maybe the changes are just for me. And I’m okay with that. Because for the first time I’m realizing how much I am capable of. What I can do, who I can be. And one thing I want to do is help.  


I’ve taken this collection of poems, prose, and journal entries in hopes of helping others. Maybe you will see yourself or a loved one in these stories. Maybe you will reach out for help, or to help another. Maybe you will find hope.  


I don’t know where my journey will go. Recovery is never linear and I may have some setbacks. But for the first time…ever…I have hope.  
-ALCH


End file.
